


your rule of thumb makes me worry some

by earnmysong



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, post-2x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnmysong/pseuds/earnmysong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I’m pretty sure there’s a bolded warning on that,” Sara flicks a thumb in the direction of the orange plastic bottle Felicity’s rolling between her hands, “against this sort of thing.”</i> // Grown-up girl bonding time as done by the ladies in Oliver Queen's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your rule of thumb makes me worry some

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Arrow_ is property of parties other than myself.

\---- 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a bolded warning on that,” Sara flicks a thumb in the direction of the orange plastic bottle Felicity’s rolling between her hands, “against this sort of thing.” In spite of the warning, Sara sets a filled tumbler in front of the other blonde. 

Felicity waves her off, hand sweeping elaborate curlicues in the air. Sara sees what’s going to happen next before it actually has a chance to. In a blur of motion, she launches forward, slides the glass out of the way three seconds before Felicity’s arm careens into the empty space it left. She does a double take, aware that something just went on but not able to summon the brain power required to figure out what it is. 

“It’s ninety-five percent green tea. There are barely any sprinkles in it,” Felicity intones confidently, taking a sip of the drink in question and punctuating it with an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

“Two things. One: I think you were going for spirits there, honey.” Sara moves to give Felicity a half-hug around her uninjured shoulder before she starts balancing the drawer for the night. “Your cocktail isn’t a cupcake.” She tosses Felicity a dishrag and tries not to laugh at the fact that her friend only appears to be interested in cleaning the surfaces immediately surrounding her person -- if one chose to do the math on this, it’s probably about twenty inches of space. “Two: the ratio of alcohol to caffeinated beverage is more like thirty-seventy so we’re keeping this mixology experiment and the pineapple rum between us.”

They turn in unison at the sound of footsteps in the entryway of the club, cover stories ready on their tongues – Oliver really is too much of a grown-up sometimes and has perfected his non-verbal harrumph of disapproval. (Not that the two of them can’t handle him, they just don’t feel like doing it tonight.)

“Partying it up after hours, ladies?” Thea hops onto the bar to Felicity’s right, crossing her legs underneath her and putting her hands on her knees because, apparently, yoga poses at midnight are the thing to do. “Mind if I – What the hell happened?!” 

“Oh, this?” Felicity raises her arm without thinking, wincing as her stitches twinge. “Note to self: do not repeat that again at any point in the foreseeable future.” She pulls her arm into her chest protectively before she continues. “Minor vehicular mishap. They gave me the A+ drugs, though, so everything’s shiny in the land of Felicity.”

“Should you be -- ?” Thea laughs.

“She’s feeling adventurous this evening,” Sara breaks in. “As long as we don’t go as far as burning this place down, we should be able to hide any and all evidence of our activities and, if we can’t, I’m very well-connected in certain law enforcement circles.”

Felicity collapses in giggles at this and Sara glares in her direction -- double lives are not to be divulged under any circumstances. She clamps a hand over her mouth but, when that doesn’t stifle the sound, she downs the rest of her drink in one swallow.

This is a decision that leads to her inhaling the majority of the mixture into her lungs because she’s at her spastic peak this evening and of course this would translate into her not being able to finish her cocktail like a normal person.

“Shit,” Thea breathes, more than a little stricken. “I vaguely remember learning the Heimlich in seventh grade. You want me to try?”

Felicity shakes her head, her ponytail smacking the younger girl in the face as Thea turns to ask Sara her opinion on the whole Heimlich thing. The two of them end up holding Felicity’s arms above her head (the injured one only making it to chin level) as she splutters, “Technically I’m not choking, I’m drowning. It’s liquid.”

“Any way you slice it, you could potentially cease to exist.” Thea thumps her on the back between words to cover all their bases and ensure this doesn’t happen.

\----

When Sara forgets that Thea’s around and does a wall-supported dismount from a boredom-induced handstand behind the bar, demands are laid out: _They teach kickass gymnastics in purgatory? Pass on your wisdom._

\----

Felicity raises her uninjured hand from her spot between Thea and Sara in their tiny circle of three, like she’s in third grade and in need of clarification about the finer points of long division. “I’d like to point out that it’s two am, we’re all a tad tipsy thanks to Sara being a stellar bartender, and yours truly does not have full use of all necessary body parts. Just so we’re clear.”

(Thea ends up with a black eye courtesy of an off-center elbow jab from Felicity, Felicity’s lip is three times it’s normal size twenty minutes after a connection between her face and Sara’s quarterstaff, and Sara has about a thousand fingernail imprints on all her visible skin.)

\---- 

Oliver comes into Verdant to correct a snafu with the fire marshal the next morning and finds them curled up against each other in the basement. An image of two people standing next to each other on a pier, both dressed in black and holding hands, is paused on the largest of Felicity’s computer screens. (Thea broke out her _Alias_ collection; it must've been quite the night.)

He lets them sleep, makes a mental note to ask about the bruises later.

(Out of the available options, Thea has the best excuse. They run with it, all smiles and _we’re clumsy idiots_. He doesn’t quite buy it, but they don’t really care.)


End file.
